


Plan of Action #468-B

by kkenobi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Cuteness being used as a weapon, Gen, Inspired By Tumblr, Padawan Obi-Wan, Sickfic, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 04:31:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12975960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kkenobi/pseuds/kkenobi
Summary: AKA The Adventures of Smolbi Wan Kenobi and Qui Dad JinnThe planet of Varsan wishes to secede from the Republic.  They don't see the benefit.  Wanting them to stay, the Senate wishes for the Jedi to mediate.  The council sends Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi to do so.The Varsi also happen to hold children, and those who care for children, in very high esteem.  Obi-Wan may be thirteen, but he looks like he's about ten.  And he also happens to be ill.Qui-Gon Jinn has A PLAN.





	Plan of Action #468-B

**Author's Note:**

> Well... I saw the inspiration for this on tumblr like a year ago, and have slowly been writing this ever since. It's gotten pretty long, so I'm splitting it up into 2, maybe 3 parts. BASICALLY it's crack, but there's some plot thrown in, and some angst as well. Because let's be honest. One of the main characters in this is Obi-Wan "Infinite Sadness" Kenobi. There's going to be some angst. But it's mostly self indulgent, hurt/comfort, crack. 
> 
> I'm going to put the inspiration at the end, because, you know, spoilers and all that. 
> 
> Hope you like reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

“You’re being assigned another mission,” Mace stated without preamble.

 

He hadn’t even bothered to look up from his holo-pad, Qui-Gon noted with irritation.

 

“And greetings to you as well Mace,” he quipped, raising one eyebrow. From his spot standing beside and just behind his Master, Obi-Wan stifled a small snort.

 

_Brat_ , Qui-Gon thought at his Padawan. Obi-Wan sent back a wave of tired agreement, swaying imperceptibly on his feet.

 

“Do you not want to hear our report from out last mission?” he asked dryly, already suspecting the answer.

 

Mace looked up from what he was reading with a faint look of surprise. “Your last mission was watching the new Prime Minister of Halan get sworn in, I think we can pass on that mission report,” he drawled.

 

Qui-Gon stifled a sigh. It seemed that his former crèche mate was in an irritable mood today.

 

Well, he amended, more irritable then usual.

 

“And what is this new mission, Masters?” He asked in resignation, looking away from Mace to stare at a point just above Yoda’s head. The little troll simply blinked sleepily at him in wry amusement.

 

“Tensions are rising on the planet of Varsin,” Ki-Adi-Mundi said before Mace could get a word in edgewise, his long fingers steepled under his chin. “One faction wants to secede from the republic, while a small minority wishes to stay.”

 

Qui-Gon straightened in attention, eyes narrowing. Through the training bond he could feel Obi-Wan’s attention focus on the council, pushing his exhaustion back with determination.

 

“And they’ve requested Jedi involvement?”

 

Adi Gallia shook her head, giving him a wry smile. “Of course not,” she stated. “But the senate wishes for Jedi to mediate, something about it going more smoothly and encouraging the Varsi to remain a part of the Republic.”

 

Qui-Gon gave in and rolled his eyes. “If most of the planet’s population and government wants to secede Jedi won’t be much help,” he pointed out, having been on similar missions in the past.

 

Multiple times, with varying results.

 

“True, this is,” Yoda finally spoke up. “But peaceful, the Varsi are. Keep it this way we want to.”

 

“You do have a talent for negotiation,” Mace said. “Or so we keep hearing.”

 

Qui-Gon wondered if he could get away with pushing his old friend out of a window at some point.

 

“There will be a ship waiting for you at 06:00 tomorrow,” Depa Billaba said, as though her former master had never said a word. “Mission details will be sent to your datapads.”

 

“Yes masters,” Qui-Gon said bowing his head. He felt Obi-Wan deliver the deeper bow befitting of a Padawan learner just behind him.

 

“You’re dismissed,” Mace said, smiling faintly.  

 

“And may the force be with you Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi,” Adi called after them as Master and Padawan turned as one to leave the chamber. Qui-Gon felt a wave of concern when he saw Obi-Wan wavering on his feet.

 

“And with you, Masters,” Obi-Wan said, ignoring (or perhaps not noticing) his Master’s mental wave of worry.

 

Qui-Gon muttered a response in return to Adi, already cataloguing his Padawan’s features as he hustled him to the door. Slightly paler then normal, small creases around his sea green eyes, tense shoulder muscles, and his hands shaking slightly where they were clenched into fists at his side. All evidence pointed in one direction.

 

His Padawan was either hurt or ill. And given the easy nature of their last mission, illness was the likely culprit.

 

Qui-Gon felt the need to bash his head into the nearest wall.

 

“Master?”

 

He looked down at his charge, looking into the bright eyes with more focus. “Yes Obi-Wan?”

 

“Is everything alright? You seem a little distracted.”

 

Qui-Gon smiled, putting a large hand on Obi-Wan’s skinny shoulder. “Everything is fine Padawan,” he answered, pushing his concern to the back of his mind. No need to let his stubborn and independent child know he was worried. That was a fight he wasn’t willing to have, at least not yet.

 

Obi-Wan raised a ginger eyebrow, looking downright sceptical.

 

Qui-Gon let out a bark of laughter, giving Obi-Wan a light push into the turbolift. “I promise, everything’s fine,” he chuckled. “We both need some sleep though, if our transport leaves at 06:00. It’s late enough as is.”

 

Obi-Wan’s nose wrinkled in disgust. Jedi Padawan or no, he was still a teenage human, and waking up early was not high up on his favourite things to do.

 

“You wake up at 06:00 normally Obi-Wan,” he pointed out, prodding the boy (who seemed to be nearly sleeping standing up) out of the lift towards their quarters.

 

“But to be at the transport on time I’ll need to be up at 05:00,” Obi-Wan whined.

 

Qui-Gon stifled a laugh. It wasn’t often that Obi-Wan gave into his more childish tendencies. Even though he was several weeks away from fourteen, he acted like an adult all to often in Qui-Gon’s esteemed opinion. Jedi Padawan or not, Obi-Wan was still a child, and deserved to act like it when they weren’t on a mission.

 

A very small child, he noted, not for the first time. Much to Obi-Wan consternation, he still looked as though he was closer to ten standard years old then his thirteen. He’d grown less then an inch since he’d become Qui-Gon’s Padawan nearly a year previously. When he’d gotten over his stubbornness (and promptly been lectured for several hours by Tahl AND Mace) and taken Obi-Wan as his apprentice he’d noticed how… cute the boy was.

 

And promptly made plans to use said cuteness to his advantage on their missions.

 

So far, they’d gotten out of at least three firefights, five near wars, and two ridiculously long negotiation sessions.

 

Obi-Wan hated it with a passion.

 

Qui-Gon thought it was good training for controlling his more negative emotions.

 

And really, he thought wryly as he opened the door to their shared apartments, watching Obi-Wan stumble to the couch where he promptly collapsed face down, Obi-Wan was far too cute.

 

“I’m not cute,” Obi-Wan mumbled, voice muffled by the couch cushions, hearing a faint echo of his master’s last thought.

 

“There’s evidence to the contrary, my very young apprentice,” Qui-Gon countered softly, hanging up his cloak and removing his shoes.

 

Obi-Wan simply grunted in reply.

 

Qui-Gon patted Obi-Wan on the back as he sat himself down on the couch, gently tugging off the boy’s boots. Obi-Wan curled into a ball once the offending things were off.

 

“You should go to bed if you’re that tired Padawan,” Qui-Gon said nonchalantly, picking up his datapad to get started on their mission briefing.

 

Force, but it was long.

 

“Mission briefing,” Obi-Wan grunted, not bothering to move.

 

Qui-Gon put down the pad to stare at Obi-Wan’s pitiful figure.

 

“Obi-Wan,” he said, fighting the urge to laugh. “The trip to Varsin’s over ten hours long.” He gave in and chuckled at Obi-Wan’s bewildered expression as he lifted his head from the cradle of his arms, short hair comically spiked in all directions. “You’ll have plenty of time to read the briefing. Go to bed,” he ordered again once his mirth was contained. “Unless I’m mistaken, you have a slight fever,” at these words Obi-Wan’s expression turned panicked. “You need to sleep if you want to avoid a visit to the healers.”

 

Obi-Wan sat up, pale features pinched in thought. “I’m fine master,” he said, slowly scooting the edge of the couch so his feet could reach the floor.  

 

Qui-Gon raised on eyebrow.

 

“Ummm,” Obi-Wan mumbled, standing up. “I’ll just go to bed then.”

 

Qui-Gon watched him scuttle into the ‘fresher with amusement and a small amount of worry, before going back to the mission briefing. There would be plenty of time to fuss over his Padawan once the boy was asleep.

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

Several hours later Qui-Gon palmed open the door to his Padawan’s room, letting the light from the hall illuminate the small room, as well as the form on the bed.

 

He stifled a laugh, clamping down on his end of the training bond so he didn’t disturb the boy.

 

For all Obi-Wan acted like an adult in a child’s body at times, he still slept with the abandon of a toddler. Qui-Gon was sure his Padawan had gone to sleep normally (that being head on a pillow, feet at the bottom of the bed, etc…) but somewhere in the night he had shifted position.

 

Qui-Gon walked into the room, picking up Obi-Wan’s pillow where it lay forgotten on the floor, before sitting on the foot of the bed. He smiled softly, carefully manoeuvring the blankets off his padawan’s face to check his temperature. Obi-Wan had somehow tangled the blankets over his head and around his arms, leaving only a small tuft of russet hair visible in the faint light from the open door.

 

He slipped the small thermometer into the padawan’s ear, soothing the irritation this action caused with a comforting encouragement for Obi-Wan to keep sleeping. The boy coughed lightly, before sighing, even more deeply asleep then before.

 

A soft beep, and Qui-Gon removed the device from Obi-Wan’s ear, keeping a large hand on his slightly sweaty hair.

 

38.2 - Not bad enough to warrant a trip to the healers, or to postpone their mission, but still high enough for some concern.

 

Qui-Gon carefully maneuvered Obi-Wan so he was lying properly on the bed once more, hand still carding through the now ridiculously spiky hair as he moved to kneel beside the prone form on the bed.

 

He had been a fool. A stubborn old fool, clinging to past hurts, and took them out unfairly on this innocent spark. Obi-Wan was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He was pure light. Even when fighting against darkness (against Xanatos, the cruel part of his mind whispered) Obi-Wan had remained steadfast in the light. Willing to sacrifice his very life, and smiling in the face of all that darkness.

 

Qui-Gon didn’t deserve him.

 

Didn’t deserve the pure light and love that was Obi-Wan Kenobi.

 

Qui-Gon pushed himself to his feet, resting his large hand on his sleeping student’s face for one more moment, before leaving the boy he thought of as a son to his rest.

 

With silent feet he walked out of the room, leaving the door open a crack. It was a silly thing to do, considering they had a bond in which he could monitor the boy, but it was comforting to Qui-Gon.

 

With a small smile, he left to ready himself for their next mission.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

“Tell me more about our mission, Padawan,” Qui-Gon ordered, watching with a raised eyebrow as Obi-Wan tried to sneeze and take a sip of tea at the same time. It was frightfully endearing, if not slightly worrying.

 

“Errr…” Obi-Wan started inelegantly, blushing when Qui-Gon raised his other eyebrow.

 

“Yes Padawan?” Qui-Gon prompted, every inch the image of an esteemed Jedi Master.

 

Obi-Wan coughed slightly, pushing his now lukewarm mug of tea away. “The Varsi are a long lived people,” he started slowly. “Living to an average of 500 standard years. They are few born – only one in twenty-seven bonded pairs will have a child, and usually only one. Children are therefore extremely precious to them, to the point of several of their Gods appearing in the form of a child in their religious texts.”

 

Qui-Gon chucked at the look on his Padawan’s face. “So, little one,” he rumbled. “You’re to be the distraction once again.”

 

Obi-Wan’s look of trepidation turned into a full out scowl. “Is this why we got this mission?” He groused, looking like he wanted the floor of the ship to swallow him whole.

 

“Probably,” Qui-Gon confirmed without mercy. The council had not come out and said so, but having a child with him would go a long way in soothing tempers with the Varsi people. They Varsi would not risk being violent if there was a child involved.

 

Obi-Wan’s scowl deepened, a small line of consternation appearing between his brows.

 

Qui-Gon reached out a finger and poked his forehead. “Stop that,” he reprimanded gently. “If you keep making that face it will get stuck that way.” He couldn’t blame Obi-Wan for his annoyance at the situation, but the boy still had a duty. Even if said duty was to look as cute as possible.

 

Obi-Wan’s face smoothed into a look of genuine contrition, before scrunching up in yet another sneeze. Then another.

 

Qui-Gon silently offered him a tissue.

 

“Dank you, Masder,” he snuffled, blowing his nose before coughing harshly.

 

Qui-Gon inched closer, his desire to coddle his Padawan warring with the knowledge that Obi-Wan would hate the attention. He sighed internally as he watched the boy determinedly go back to the mission report, brow once again furrowed. “I can understand why, in a way. Why they’d like to leave the Republic that is,” he stated, looking up at his master.

 

Qui-Gon smiled, warming up the boy’s tea with the force and pushing it back in front of him. Obi-Wan had eaten next to nothing, but tea, Qui-Gon had discovered, was something he would drink even when injured or ill.

 

_A boy after my own heart._

 

“Oh,” he said neutrally once Obi-Wan had taken a gulp of tea. “And why is that?”

 

Obi-Wan took another sip of tea. “Well,” he started, voice getting slightly hoarse as the conversation continued. “They don’t seem to be getting much out of being a part of the Republic. They’re pretty much self-sufficient.”

 

“Yes,” Qui-Gon agreed, “they are.”

 

“They’re also a peace loving people, so do not trade in weapons. Their biology doesn’t react well to most drugs, illegal or otherwise – and even if they did, the Varsi are a religious people, and their faith pr-prohibits the use of mind-altering substances,” he finished in once breath. “They use locally sourced food, clothing, and medical supplies.”

 

“So,” Qui-Gon said, internally cooing over his Padawan’s attempted to say ‘prohibits’. “What would the best plan of action be?”

 

Obi-Wan coughed again, and this time Qui-Gon couldn’t resist putting an arm around the small shoulders, frowning when he felt the heat radiating from his apprentice’s body.

 

“M’fine, master,” Obi-Wan finally sighed, leaning against the large man.

 

Qui-Gon pressed a kiss into the perpetually messy hair. “Are not,” he retorted, calling the thermometer he’d left on the counter into his outstretched hand with the force, and gently inserting it into Obi-Wan’s ear.

 

“38.7C” he read off the tiny machine, batting away Obi-Wan’s hands easily. “Well, Padawan,” he said jovially. “I think its meds and sleep for you,” he ordered, raising himself to his feet after he was sure Obi-Wan was steady where he sat.

 

“Master,” Obi-Wan said, voice surprised. “A small fever’s hardly…”

 

Qui-Gon cut him off, prodding his bewildered apprentice to his feet. “Obi-Wan,” he said softly, hustling the boy in front of him with two hands on his shoulders. “You’re ill. You don’t need to be going into a negotiation ill. I won’t hear any arguments,” he continued as he felt Obi-Wan’s intent through their bond. “Your head hurts, you have a fever, and your throat hurts,” he catalogued. “There’s no need to push yourself.”

 

Obi-Wan frowned up at him from where he’d been pushed onto the sleep couch and divested of his boots and outer robes in short order.

 

“But…”

 

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said softly, handing the boy some pills and water as he sat beside him. “In the future there will be missions where you’ll need to push past illness or injury. You’ll need to continue negotiating peace, protecting some senator, or fighting in a war. At the moment, we are still five hours away from out destination, and you don’t need the weight of the world on your shoulders.” He helped Obi-Wan into a more comfortably position on the sleep couch. “Rest, Padawan mine,” he intoned, sending waves of comfort along their link. “Sleep.”

 

Qui-Gon felt the moment Obi-Wan gave into sleep, his body finally getting the rest he needed to fight whatever illness he’d picked up.

 

“Stubborn child,” he murmured, not willing to leave the boy’s side. Settling himself against the hard wall of the ship, he pulled Obi-Wan’s fevered head into his lap, stroking away sweaty hair as he let himself fall into light meditation.

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

Several hours later Obi-Wan was still asleep (helped along by Qui-Gon, more meds, and a healthy dose of force-suggestion) when their small ship dropped out of hyperspace and into the orbit around the planet of Varsin.

 

The bright greens of foliage and deep blues of oceans winked up at him. At least it was a pretty planet.

 

“This is Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, requesting permission to land,” he called over the frequency given to him by the council.

 

“Master Jinn,” a deep voiced answered. “Permission granted. Safe landing.”

 

“Thank you, Jinn out.”

 

He manoeuvred the craft down, thankful that he’d arrived on time and that the Varsi were an efficient race.

 

He hated long drawn out landings. It was much easier to just land and get things moving. There was no use standing on ceremony when both sides knew it to be faked.

 

He landed softly, still mindful of his sick Padawan, before quickly and efficiently going through the post flight inspection.

 

Picking up his cloak from where he’d tossed if over the empty co-pilots chair, he wandered down the hall of the ship to check on Obi-Wan.

 

Still sound asleep.

 

Brat. Leaving him to deal with the mission on his own.

 

_Oh well,_  Qui-Gon thought.  _Obi-Wan will just be my trump card._

 

He left his pack, and that of his Padawan, in the ship knowing full well that it would only be several hours at most before he came back to bring the boy onto the planet.

 

With one last look into the darkened cabin he left the ship, bowing low as he reached he floor of the hanger. “Senator,” he said.

 

The senator was a tall being, with dark blue skin and black hair tied back in a neat braid, who gave a short bow in return.

 

He smiled at her, ignoring the guards and workers in the hanger for the time being. “Greetings,” he said. “I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn.”

 

She gave him a Varsi version of a smile. It looked like a grimace of pain to him. “I am Senator Auren Stama,” she said; braid swaying as she looked down at him. “Welcome to Varsin.”

 

“Thank you Senator,” he said. “I am honoured that your people have asked for a Jedi mediator in your discussions.”

 

She gestured for him to follow her to her transport, talking slow measured steps to make sure he could keep up with her long stride. Qui-Gon appreciated it. He wasn’t used to being on planets where even the smallest of beings were taller then him.

 

He resisted the urge to smirk as he clamoured into the sleek ship that was to take him and the senator to the palace. Obi-Wan was going to look more like a toddler then a teenager.

 

“Master Jinn,” Stama said, gesturing for him to sit across from her in a silver chair made of some odd metal.

 

“Thank you, Senator Stama,” he answered, settling himself into the chair, somehow managing to make himself look comfortable and relaxed in the massive thing.  _This must be what Yoda feels like all the time_ , he thought with humour.

 

“I do not believe that we need the involvement of the Jedi,” Stama said bluntly, though still kindly. “I do, however, appreciate your council’s promptness in sending you Master Jinn.”

 

Qui-Gon nodded his head to her. “We live to serve,” he answered. “And truthfully, I prefer when my involvement is not needed.”

 

She tilted her head in curiosity. “And why is that, Master Jinn?”

 

“I would much rather watch negotiations between two parties then have to mediate arguments, or potentially deal with violence.” He explained. “Your people are peaceful, so I expect that even if there are disagreements between those that want to remain a part of the republic, and those who wish to secede, the negotiations will be calm. Think of me as nothing more then a witness who will be reporting back to the Senate.”

 

She smiled at him. Qui-Gon resisted the urge to duck for cover at the sight of her sharp teeth. “We can only hope that my people will come to a viable solution for all, and your involvement will be minimal.” She let out a sound similar to a snort. “Perhaps you can think of this of more of a vacation. I can at least promise you won’t be shoot at,” she continued dryly.

 

Qui-Gon let out a startled laugh. This mission sounded almost easy.

 

Maybe they wouldn’t need Obi-Wan to play up his cuteness after all.

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

Several hours later Qui-Gon stifled a groan as another argument broke out in front of him, annoyed at himself for assuming this would be an easy mission. He was tired, hungry, and most importantly, wanted to go check on his Padawan.

 

Feeling Obi-Wan through the bond just wasn’t the same as seeing the boy with his own eyes, especially when the child was ill.

 

_So much for the Varsi people being peaceful_ , he thought with faint irritation, watching as Taluka Vensha nearly jumped across the table, only to be held back by their more even-tempered college.

 

“Mayhap we do need Jedi involvement after all,” Senator Auren Stama said to him wryly, watching the proceedings in annoyance.

 

“You think?” Qui-Gon asked, gesturing to the scene in from of them.

 

“I’d hoped my people could come to a solution less…”

 

“Loudly?” He provided, risking a glace over at his companion. The Varsi was of average height for her people, but Qui-Gon still had to crane his neck to meet her eyes.

 

“That’s one word for it, I suppose,” the senator sighed; long braid swaying as she shook their head in annoyance.

 

“Well,” Qui-Gon said loudly, a note of finality to his voice. He needed to get the situation under control, and quickly, before it deteriorated further. “I move that we take a brief respite from our discussion,” he continued unflinchingly as the entire room turned to look at him.

 

“Oh,” sneered Vensha, “is the fate of our planet not interesting enough for you, Master Jedi?”

 

Qui-Gon sensed, rather then saw, Stama rub the bridge of her nose.

 

“Of course it is,” Qui-Gon said, the very picture of deference. “However my Padawan is ill, and I do not want to leave him alone for longer then I already have.” He smiled internally, seeing the faces of the Varsi go from irritation to concern in the space of half a second.

 

“…Padawan?” One asked with a furrowed brow.

 

“That is the term used for a Jedi apprentice, is it not?” Stama asked, worry and relief warring on her face.

 

“Yes,” Qui-Gon confirmed. “ _Young_  Obi-Wan is my apprentice. Normally I would ensure that he had been with me to greet you, however in light of his illness…”

 

Quo-Gon trailed off, suddenly finding himself by 12 very large, and very frantic looking Varsi.

 

“ _Young_ apprentice?” One said, panic on their dusky blue face.

 

“You have an ill child with you? Why did you not inform us immediately?” Chimed in another.

 

“Of course we can take a recess,” Vensha said, all trace of hostility gone from his face, though he looked ready to run to Qui-Gon’s ship at any moment.

 

The Jedi master held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Yes,” he started. “Obi-Wan is 13 standard years old, and he has a mild illness that most human children contract at one point or another.”

 

“And you left him alone?” One said with a great deal of anger, baring their sharp teeth as a threat.

 

Qui-Gon shook his head. “All Master and Padawan pairs have a mental bond,” he soothed. “I would know the moment the child was in any danger.”

 

The Varsi seemed to breath a collective sigh of relief.

 

“What will you require for Obi-Wan?” Stama inquired.

 

“Yes,” Reaat Halos piped in, “we know little about your human physiology, but we have the best medical facilities in the entire sector. Please, friend, make use of all of our resources.”

 

Qui-Gon fought down a smile. This was the first thing Halos had said without glowering at him since he’d arrived. The politician was very vocal about not wanting to stay with the republic.

 

“Yes,” a deep voice boomed from the back, making Qui-Gon jump slightly. “Anything you need is at your disposal, Master Jedi.”

 

Qui-Gon bowed as the rest of the Varsi parted, giving a faint smile to King Kenex Anan. “You have my, and my Padawan’s, gratitude.”

 

“We apologise,” the ruler continued, shooting his council an intimidating glare, “for taking up so much of your time. Please take care of your child, and notify me or my staff should you require anything.”

 

Qui-Gon bowed again. “I shall, your Majesty. The only thing I believe I require at the moment is room to bring Obi-Wan to.”

 

A larger than normal Varsi frowned. “Should you not take him to the healers ward?” She demanded.

 

Qui-Gon shook his head in negative. “At the moment his illness is mild; requiring rest more then any medicines. And,” he added. “Obi-Wan rather dislikes being held in a healers ward – he will recover better away from one.”

 

Qui-Gon shuddered internally, thinking of Obi-Wan’s reaction if he were to be brought to the healers ward. It would make the Varsi’s discussions look like toddlers in the crèche fighting over a toy.

 

Qui-Gon inclined his head, “Thank you, for calling a recess,” he said formally, as though he hadn’t been the one to call for one in the first place. “When would you like to reconvene?”

 

Anan waved a massive hand in agitation. “We will wait for you,” he ordered. “Allow your apprentice to get settled safely, then alert us.”

 

“Thank you, King Anan, councillors.”

 

“Would you like a ride to your ship?”

 

Qui-Go turned to look at Stama with a faint smile. “I would appreciate that, senator.”

 

The King nodded in approval at his senator, gesturing for them to leave. Qui-Gon and Stama bowed together, before turning on heel and leaving the large room.

 

_Well_ , he thought wryly as he followed the senator to a ship,  _at least this way I can keep a better eye on Obi-Wan._

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

Obi-Wan drifted in the waves of the force, dreaming of sand and the scorching heat of two suns. Shielding his eyes with a hand, he tried to look around, feeling the force swirl around him as though something important was going to happen. That this place, wherever or whenever it was, was important to the very fate of the galaxy. He tried to run, but found the sand was deep and his feet slid and sank every time he tried to move. In the distance he could see the faint outline of what looked to be a moisture farm… smoke was rising from the house, and a small speeder was rushing towards it.

 

The dream changed, and he was being shot at on a strange planet, the number sixty-six flashing was before his eyes… then the sensation of falling.

 

Of drowning.

 

Of legions of troops in white fighting an endless sea of droids, the occasional flash of a ‘saber before that light was extinguished forever.

 

A figure all in black, taller than his master and more formidable then even Xanatos in his insanity had been, wielding a red lightsaber against an old and worn man in a Jedi robe.

 

Millions of voices crying out in terror only to be abruptly silenced…

 

Obi-Wan sat up, sucking in a panicked breath of air, and regret it immediately when his lungs protested the deep breath and forced him to cough. He collapsed to his side, clutching at his aching chest while he fought to get his breathing under control.

 

Finally in control of his body, he flopped onto his back, struggling to remember his… dream? Vision?

 

Nothing.

 

He really hated being sick. He sneezed again, before forcing himself out of bed. Master Qui-Gon’s presence in his head was muted, but Obi-Wan cold still feel faint threads of irritation along the bond, along with worry.

 

_Master?_

 

_Ah, Padawan,_  came Qui-Gon’s mental voice immediately.  _You’re awake._

Obi-Wan sent along a wave of acknowledgment as he coughed harshly into the crook of his elbow, feeling his lungs burn in protest.  _Yes Master_

It was a several minutes before Qui-Gon responded, during which Obi-Wan dragged himself out of bed and into the small shipboard ‘fresher. Looking at his reflection, he grimaced. Eyes bright with fever, skin pale with a bright flush over his nose and cheeks, and sweat beaded in his hair. Not the look he wanted to present on a mission.

 

_I’m on my way back Obi-Wan,_  came Qui-Gon’s mental voice.

 

_Already?_

 

Guilty silence. Obi-Wan sneezed again, and pulled on his left boot.

 

_I think, Padawan,_  came his master’s wry mental voice, _that it’s time to execute Plan of Action #468-B._

_Huh?_

_Think about it for a second Obi-Wan…_

Obi-Wan groaned, sending all his frustration down their link. _But Master!_

“No buts bratling, we have a mission,” Qui-Gon said as he stalked into the ship, expression a mix of amusement and annoyance.

 

Obi-Wan’s lip twitched in a small smile. “When did you think up that name?” he asked as Qui-Gon’s massive hand went to his forehead. It covered his eyes as well.

Qui-Gon shrugged his shoulders. “During the negations,” he admitted. “Your fever’s up.”

 

Obi-Wan shrugged back. “I’m fine master.”

 

Qui-Gon barked out a laugh, removing his hand from Obi-Wan’s forehead only to push the boy in the direction of the ships small sleeping area. “Pack your things,” he ordered.

 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, starting to pull out his overtunic before being stopped by a hand on his wrist. “Master?”

 

“Don’t bother dressing,” Qui-Jon said, a note of apology in his voice. “You’re going straight to bed when we get to the palace.”

 

Obi-Wan turned abruptly, eyes wide. “Master!”

 

Qui-Gon didn’t even blink, but started to fold Obi-Wan’s overtunic and put it in his bag, before shouldering the pack himself.

 

Obi-Wan watched all this with a feeling of slight panic.

 

“For the mission, Padawan mine,” Qui-Gon teased. “Now put on your other boot and come here.”

 

“I thought you said not to bother dressing,” Obi-Wan sulked, shoving his feet into the worn boot.

 

“Brat,” Qui-Gon chided, before sliding an arm under his yelping apprentices back.

 

“Master!”

 

The tall man adjusted his grip on the boy in his arms, glancing around the small room to ensure nothing had been forgotten. “Yes Obi-Wan?”

 

“What are you doing?!”

 

“I was accompanied on my trip from the palace to pick you up by Senator Auren Stama,” he answered cheerfully, though he frowned internally at the heat radiating from Obi-Wan’s body as he lay cradled in his master’s arms.

 

Obi-Wan didn’t respond.

 

“You know what is expected of you?”

 

“Yes Master,” was the grumpy answer, accompanied by a pout.

 

“You know,” Qui-Gon said conversationally, “you look about five standard when you make that face. Should be good for the mission.”

 

Obi-Wan sighed, settling in his master’s admittedly comforting embrace.

 

Time to put on a show.

 

xxxxxxxxxx

**Author's Note:**

> EVERYONE GO CHECK THIS AMAZINGNESS OUT: 
> 
> http://americankimchi.tumblr.com/post/142824841706/ive-just-had-this-idea-of-qui-and-obi-being-sent
> 
> http://americankimchi.tumblr.com/post/144026056271/so-im-kinda-completely-in-love-with-the


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